


In a Land Fair and Fruitful

by Himring



Series: Numenor [16]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Edain, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Númenor, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himring/pseuds/Himring
Summary: Elros's wife and her youngest son have a serious conversation. About food.
Series: Numenor [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/144324
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	In a Land Fair and Fruitful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Talullah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/gifts).



> A late attempt to fill Talullah's request for a ficlet about Elros's wife.

It seemed Atanalcar had misbehaved, during his parents’ absence. It was his brother Manwendil who reported the incident to their mother after her return from the Andustar. Manwendil was just old enough to have forgotten how recently he had got over his own tendency to throw tantrums, his mother thought. She was secretly amused by the righteousness of his indignation, but listened attentively.

‘…and then Atanalcar hurled everything that was on his plate at the wall and hollered that, no, he would not eat it, so there! And Tindomiel tried to clean the worst of it up, quickly, before Gilwen could come back and see it…’

The Queen glanced across at her daughter, quietly standing by in the background, who reluctantly nodded in confirmation. Tindomiel, she thought, would probably not have mentioned the incident to her or, at least, made much less of it.

‘I will talk to Atanalcar,’ she said.

*

The next morning dawned clear and bright.

‘Let us walk in the garden, Atanalcar!’ said the Queen. ‘And we can sit on a bench and talk about what you have been doing, while I was away.’

Atanalcar nodded somewhat hesitantly. It seemed his conscience was not entirely clear, then, although he had been excitedly chattering away, asking volleys of questions without always attending to the answers.

They walked around the back of the house and sat down by the fountain. She waited to see whether he would bring it up himself, but he talked about his lessons and the new kittens, then his account petered out. He sneaked a look at her.

‘I have heard that you threw your vegetables across the room, one evening,’ his mother said.

He made his stubborn face.

‘It wasn’t vegetables, it was celery. I can’t eat celery. It chokes me,’ he grumbled.

‘And that is why you threw food about?’

‘I told them I would not eat it! They tried to make me!’

‘Atanalcar,’ said his mother.

He hunched his shoulders.

‘Before we came here, when your father was young, our people lived in a land torn by war,’ said his mother. ‘Nowhere was safe. Our fields were pitiful. Game became scarce. There was hardly anything to buy and little to buy it with. Those who lived right on the coast and could fish, had the best of it, provided the catch was good and could be made to last. I was a little girl, then—younger than your father, not older than you are now—but I remember how hungry I was, often… We ate things, then, sometimes, that we would not consider fit to eat, now.’

She was watching the glitter of spray in the sunlight as the waters of the fountain wavered in the breeze. The boy beside her gulped.

‘So I need to eat celery, even if it chokes me? Because of the war?’

He raised both hands instinctively to his throat.

‘No,’ said his mother, putting her hand on his. ‘We are here now, in Andor, the fair and fruitful land that was given to us. The war is long over. We are lucky enough to have a choice. We do not need to eat things that choke us. I will make sure Gilwen and Tindomiel know that you do not need to eat celery. But, Atanalcar...!’

‘Mother?’

‘Show respect and gratitude for the food we have now. Every day. Even for celery! Whether you want to eat it yourself or not, do not waste food. Do not throw any of it away heedlessly!’

‘I’m sorry, Mother.’

‘Just don’t do it again. Promise?’

‘Promise!’

‘And it is not respectful to make Gilwen or Tindomiel clear it up either. If you drop it by accident, don’t wait for them to do it, pick up after yourself.’

‘Yes, Mother.’

Atanalcar edged along the bench, right up close to his mother.

‘Mother, were you really hungry?' he asked. It was so difficult to imagine her as that starving little girl! ‘When you were as old as I am now? As hungry as that? And Father, too? Everyone?’

**Author's Note:**

> It is possibly not in accordance with Tolkien's intentions for early Numenoreans, but for the purpose of this ficlet, Atanalcar suffers from a mild celery allergy. Although he may be exaggerating a bit, the "choking" is not intended to be entirely imaginary. (Celery, because it indeed is known to trigger allergical reactions in some people, not because I dislike it in any way. It is actually one of my favourites.)
> 
> I made Elros's wife only just old enough to remember Beleriand here, mainly because her oldest son isn't born until S.A. 61.
> 
> Gilwen is an OFC: some kind of cousin without an official job title, partly of Beorian descent.


End file.
